


Was it Worth This and Other Stories

by Tat_Tat



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-01 00:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2753525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tat_Tat/pseuds/Tat_Tat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Compilation of short SFW Pinecest fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The room in the attic was empty without her. The bed that used to be Mabel's was piled with Dipper's luggage in an attempt to remove the negative space

His back was turned from it all as he lay there in the dark, browsing the internet on his phone, waiting for sleep or something like it. He was trying not to think about the event that led him here all alone in the Mystery Shack, but it was pointless when everything reminded him of Mabel: her empty bed, her perfume that wouldn't come out no matter how many times he put his clothes through the wash. His phone reminded him of her, even after he removed the background picture of them sitting in front of the Christmas tree, wearing matching tacky Christmas sweaters that she had knitted, with pretty boxes in their laps, itching to be unwrapped.

There was a blinking icon on the corner of his phone, alerting him that he had a new message on his FaceHook. He knew it was Mabel because no one else messaged him on there.

He ignored it, trying not to think. Trying not to remember.

He set the phone aside and bashed his head against the pillow before falling into it, sighing.

It had been a week and a half since he was dropped off at Grunkle Stan's. He hadn't expected Stan's reaction to be positive, as he was sure his parents had told him why they had sent Dipper to him. Grunkle Stan had surprised Dipper, asking no questions.

"If you ever wanna talk, Kid. . . you can... I don't know. We can talk about it over a beer or something."

"Grunkle Stan, I'm not old enough to drink."

"Eh." He shrugged. "You look like you need one."

At first Dipper thought his relative was punishing him for his relationship with Mabel. He piled more work on him than he ever did before. Dipper didn't even have time to go out in the woods to discover mysteries, or possibly try to find a girlfriend to move on. It took him awhile to realize, one day when Grunkle Stan miraculously gave him a day off, that Grunkle Stan was doing it for his own good. The busier he was, the less he thought of Mabel, or the look his parents had given them when they were caught.

The day after his day off, he woke up at six and started working before Grunkle Stan was awake. Soos commented that he had never seen the floors so shiny, right before he fell on his butt five times in a row. Maybe Dipper's mom was wrong: there was such a thing as too clean.

His phone vibrated and chirped at him, meaning Mabel was being persistent. His face still pressed into the pillow, he picked up the phone. It vibrated again in his hands, and he breathed in deeply, both excited and dreading the messages.

>Yo, yo Bro. U gonna gimme ur add?

Their parents hadn't told her where he was, and had changed his phone number. They had neglected to think of social networking sites, but Dipper wished they hadn't.

>Maybe ur phone #? I miss u

This was punctuated with three sad emoticons and a broken heart gif.

>I luv u

The last message contained as many hearts as the character count allowed.

Dipper frowned. He knew she was trying to act like nothing had happened. He imagined her wrapped up in an oversized sweater, watching her phone, awaiting his reply.

Dipper ran his finger over the back of his phone, feeling the edge of stickers he had yet to peel off. He typed in a few messages before erasing them, then repeated that until he felt incredibly stupid, and finally, turned the phone off.

For over a week he had wondered what he could have done differently. The dubious answer was he should have been more careful. The "right" answer was not sleep with his sister to start with, but he couldn't imagine not kissing her, or not cupping the small of her back. He missed running his fingers through her hair, releasing the scent of peppermint and cinnamon into the air.

He didn't regret that he loved her, only the problems that it caused.


	2. Chapter 2

In Mabel’s opinion, a shower wasn’t a shower unless you were singing in said shower. She had just finished washing her hair and was halfway through her current earworm when Dipper opened the door. 

A waft of steam and Mabel’s voice greeted him.

“Girls just wanna have fu ~un~ They just wanna- Oh hey Sir Dippingsauce. To what do I owe the visit?” She wagged her eyebrows knowingly at his naked form.

His hand was already on the shower door, sliding the pane. “Is there room for a duet?”

“Always,” she said, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him in the shower with her.

Since she was mostly done, she let him have most of the shower water. That was the bad thing about communal showers- fighting over the hot water. However, the pros outweighed the cons, and she didn’t mind being a little chilly because it was the perfect excuse for him to wrap his arms around her. 

He started humming one of BABBA’s songs, their bodies swaying to a catchy pop melody they knew so well they could practically hear it. Mabel giggled. Even after all these years, and many “showerokes” (that’s shower and karaoke mushed together, for the uneducated), Dipper was still too shy to take the initiative to sing.

“Disco girl. . .” she started, eyeing him.

“. . .that girl is you,” he followed through, grabbing a shampoo bottle to use as a mic. The closest thing to Mabel was a loofah, and as she sudsed it up with soap she sang along with her brother. Occasionally she had to draw the loofah-mic away to scrub him down.

At one point, Dipper stopped singing. “Mabel, how long are you going to wash my butt?”

She gave a cheeky grin, continuing to sing along to the tune in their heads but changing the lyrics. “Never,” she sang.

“It’s making me slightly uncomfortable,” he replied, also in song without realizing.

“I wanna make you awkward and sweaty,” she trilled.

“It’s working-” 

Dipper coughed, realizing their whole exchange had been in song, and said again, this time without musical flourish, “That’s enough.” 

“FINALLY!” their upstairs neighbor yelled.

Much to their neighbor’s chagrin, this only inspired more singing.


	3. Chapter 3

She was dressed in wedding white, cake and icing all over the front of her dress. She was licking the icing that was caked around her lips, giggling. There was another piece of cake in her hand, crudely dug out with her bare hands instead of the cake server. She pressed it towards Dipper’s face as he leaned back out of the way.

“Mabel! This tux is a rental!” He protested.

“Not anymore.” She chirped, successfully landing a blow to the nose. Cake flew everywhere and Dipper stared at the large white spots coating the jacket. Admittedly he should have seen that coming. But what was done was done and he couldn’t stay mad at Mabel for long, especially on their wedding. They weren’t really married but they could pretend and keep this moment for themselves.

Dipper grabbed a glob of cake, rolling the piece in his hand like a snowball ready to be thrown, raising his eyebrows at Mabel.

“I think you missed a spot.” He said, slapping the piece against his chest and rubbing it in.

“Whoops! I missed another here too!” She lunged forward and he caught her by the waist, kissing her cheek. 

She always tasted sweet.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t even four in the morning when Grunkle Stan groused out of bed to get a drink of water. He was missing one of his slippers, too groggy to find the other half of the pair, and his body was sore, making the venture to the downstairs kitchen more of a chore. Most of all: he was cranky. Well, more than usual. 

Stan was used to a lot of strange phenomena during these odd hours. Like that one time the Coolio wax sculpture was making mojitos for the other cursed wax figures. Or when a pack of werewolves were huddled around his kitchen table, playing cards. He kicked them all out of course. Except maybe the wax sculptures. He wasn’t sure if he had just imagined that that one time or if he had too many mojitos. The important thing was that none of those uninvited guests took his money.

What Stan didn’t expect was his grandnephew locking lips with his adorable grandniece. Dipper saw Stan from the corner of his eye and they both jumped back from each other. Stan started to jump towards Dipper, running a hand over his bare arm like he was rolling up his sleeve.

“Wait! Grunkle Stan!” Mabel yelled but he didn’t hear her. The blood was rushing to his head - or his hearing aid wasn’t working.

There was a lot Stan wanted to say to the kid, all of them inappropriate words, but the only words that managed to leave his mouth was,“LEFT HOOK.”

Dipper keeled over on the floor, groaning and clutching his face. Grunkle Stan panted over him, his face still red and fuming. Mabel’s hand found his arm and he turned to his niece, the furious shade of red receding from his face and his eyes softening, taking her by the shoulders and looking her up and down. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, sincerely for once.

“Grunkle Stan. . . Yes.”

“You sure? You can tell me anything. Don’t defend that poor sap.” He turned to Dipper and bellowed, “How long has this been going on?!” And then to Mabel. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Grunkle Stan! It’s okay! Dipper. . . he’s. . .” Mabel ran her hands through her hair, glancing between Dipper, who was using the refrigerator door to get back on his feet, and Grunkle Stan, who looked like a worried father on prom night with a shotgun. 

“Dipper’s my boyfriend! Whew! That feels soooo good to finally let out.” She laughed deliriously.

Stan’s eyebrows rose, disappearing under his fez. “Wait.” He scratched his head, and then his butt. “Really?”

“Really.” Mabel nodded. Stan’s grip on her shoulders loosened and she moved towards Dipper, inspecting his eye.

“Really?” Stan asked again.

“Really really,” both twins repeated.

“Huh.” Stan sat back in a chair, trying to soak this all in, watching the two. He had always thought they were close, and yeah, he did have his suspicions about something -that he couldn’t put his finger on- when they suddenly appeared on his doorstep, fresh out of college and lost in life. 

Mabel pulled a steak out of the freezer and held it up against Dipper’s eye. Dipper winced. “Now I know how the pterodactyl felt.”

Mabel took his hand, leading him to the kitchen table, and sat down next to Stan. Dipper hesitated, his one good eye peering down at Stan nervously. Stan motioned for him to sit and Mabel tugged on his arm until he finally sat down.

“You know, I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff,” Grunkle Stan said. “Unexpected things you wouldn’t believe. But this. . . this ain’t so bad to find.”

Dipper had started to frown. “Yeah. I know-- what. . .?”

“So you love each other.” He shrugged before fixing his stare on them both. “And it’s consensual?”

Mabel nodded, and his square shoulders eased.

“Well! I’m glad that you’re happy together- and that I have some blackmail handy when I need free labor. Though, Mabel, I’m surprised. We both know you can do better.”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel gasped. “. . .You really think so?”

“Mabel!” Dipper hissed.

“Just kidding. Sheeesh, Dipper!”

“See what I mean. Kid can’t even take a joke.” Stan laughed, and when no one was looking he smiled warmly at Dipper. He had always been worried the boy would be too much of a coward to pursue the things he wanted out of life, and make the same mistakes he had. But seeing the two now, hand in hand, he knew he didn’t have to worry at all.


	5. Downward Slope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a prompt by Coniferoussiblings. Also inspired by their Mystery Twins series!

“C’mon, Flipper, it’ll be fun!”

“I don’t know, Mabel,” Dipper had said, the last time the family went skiing. Mabel had taken to the slopes like she had to mini-golf, while Dipper had panicked halfway down the slopes because he’d forgotten how to stop. The only reason he was still alive was because he landed inside a net. Since then ‘Flipper’ was added to the increasingly long list of nicknames Mabel had for him. Apparently he had looked like a dolphin squirming in the net.

Dipper knit his brows.  If Mabel was going to talk him into this, she shouldn’t have used his least favorite nickname. That was when Mabel laid down her trump card.  “There’s an unsolved mystery.”

She had grinned after sharing that last detail, and before Dipper said okay, they both knew she had won.

A month and a half later they were standing in line to the concierge desk of the Ursa Major ski resort, hands full of luggage. It was mostly Mabel’s, and over half of it sweaters. Dipper had packed one suitcase with a week’s worth of clothes (he guessed) and everything he would need to conduct a paranormal investigation: a collection of printed news articles on the recent incidents on the slopes of Ursa Valley, the ‘shrinky crystal’ plus flashlight, and two packs of pens to chew on. Other various essentials, including a personal journal and an emergency food supply, were in the bag slung over his shoulder. He had a taser, sheathed, clipped to the waistband of his jeans. At first glance it looked like a clunky cellphone case. His real phone was in his pocket and always on silent. He learned to do that the hard way when hiding from a monster. Also for self defense he had a pocket knife hidden in the lining of his boots. He didn’t have to ask Mabel if she had her grappling hook— she never left the house without it. And over the years she had surprised Dipper, finding a use for it in any situation, including, but not limited to, buttering toast or gently threatening the neighborhood kids off their lawn.

He could feel the grappling hook through the two layers of sweaters she was wearing.

“Mabel,” he hissed under his breath, self-conscious of anyone seeing them. No one was paying them any mind but in Dipper’s paranoia, knowing the true nature of his relationship with his sister, he couldn’t help but feel like everyone’s eyes were on them in the lobby.

Her arms were wrapped around his, and she was leaning into his side as they waited. She rolled her eyes.”Relax, brotato. It’s not like anyone knows us way out here.”

“I hope not,” Dipper retorted.  “And don’t call me that in public- then they’llreallyknow.”

“Aye aye, Flipper,” she teased, sticking out her tongue.

Despite the fact that Mabel was right, his nerves didn’t unbundle until they stepped up to the front desk and his sister unraveled from him.

X

The room was a simple but beautiful loft. Like the rest of the ski lodge it was made out of high quality wood, the rustic cedar scent rising from the floorboards to greet them. There was a tiny kitchen that could barely fit more than one person at a time. It was open-faced, allowing one to see into the cubicle-sized living room. There was a cozy loveseat and tiger maple coffee table with a remote and TV guide on top as well as a set of coasters. A staircase centered the room, cradling the space where the television hung. The stairs led up to the bedroom overlooking the living room. Their room was on the top floor, so the bedroom ceiling was slanted. It reminded Dipper of the attic in the Mystery Shack many summers ago. Not surprising, the nostalgia further ignited his passion for mystery.

For now, he was distracted by his own paranoia. “Oh, god, Mabel, they totally know.”

“What are you talking about, Bro- I mean- Dippingsauce?”

Mabel raised a brow at him. She had brought him here so they relax and be open about their affections. The problem lay in that Dipper was so used to being careful that it would take days for his nerves to unravel for them to enjoy this ‘Romantic Getaway with a Touch of Mystery.’

“We have the same last name! They know we’re related!” he said after locking the door.

She waved his panic away, scoffing slightly.  “Geez Louise, Dipper! They prob thought we were married or something.”

After a few seconds of that sinking in, Dipper’s raised shoulders slumped down and he chuckled, blushing slightly. “Oh, yeah. I forgot… couples do that… hah.”

“Yep! For the next two weeks we are Mr. and Mrs. Pines. Mild-mannered couple on their honeymoon by day, by night sexy undercover agents investigating the paranormal.”

“Speaking of that…” Dipper started to unpack his bag, laying out the news articles and his journal on the coffee table, pushing aside the remote and TV guide.

He started to pull out a pen when Mabel took it from him. “I’ll leave ya to it, bro. I’m going to unpack first and then let’s go grab the ski equipment and get a bite to eat.”

Before he could nod his stomach roared at her, effectively answering her question.

X

“That was great! We should go back again tomorrow morning!” Mabel said, contently rubbing her tummy.

“Tomorrow? Really?”

“Did you not see the sign?!” Mabel gasped.

“No…”

“All. You. Can. Eat. Pancakes.”

“I see your point.” Dipper laughed, opening the door outside for her. Mabel walked past, taking his hand on the way. For a moment Dipper hesitated, face blanched, instinctively worried about being seen. Then, he remembered they were in the middle of nowhere and he relaxed. Slightly. He accepted her fingers intertwining with his as she reeled him out of the doorway and into the biting cold.

The ski rental shop was just across the street. In large red letters, the sign said: “Ski Free.” Four of the lights were burnt out, and in the approaching evening it seemed to say “See.”

“They really need a new sign- and store name. None of this stuff is going to be free,” Dipper felt inclined to point out. Mabel shrugged her shoulders, heading straight towards a bedazzled ski set. Dipper picked up a set of ski poles and set them back down, frowning. He had promised Mabel he would try skiing again and he was dreading it. Yes, there was a ski class he was going to in the morning, and this time he would make sure to remember how to stop. Learning how to ski was also a requirement in their investigation. All the disappearances had happened on a certain slope called Rainbow Ridge. An appropriate name he thought, considering the difficulty level of the trail was the same as Rainbow Road on Mario Kart.

“Can I, like, help you, man?”

Dipper dropped the poles back in the bin for the fifth time and reluctantly looked up. A man twice his age with long, badly bleached blonde hair flashed a smile at him. The collar of a Hawaiian shirt peaked out from underneath his sweater, and though Dipper did not consider himself very fashionable, he did know that that and thermal socks and sandals didn’t particularly make sense.

“No. I mean, yes. Yes. I’m uh… looking for ski equipment.” He hoped he wasn’t caught staring.

“Obviously, man. I got just the set for you. Hold tight.” He turned around, revealing a horseshoe-shaped bald spot that bounced the light around the room.

He soon returned with a set of ski poles and skis. It was a basic set, indigo-colored. The man (who Dipper soon learned was the store owner) began to go over the fundamentals of the equipment he was renting to him, and then, somehow deviated towards the philosophy of skiing.

“…That’s why I named this place ‘Ski Free’. Cause like, skiing is freedom. You gotta feel the alpines and the—”

“Sorry I took so long!” Dipper was relieved to hear Mabel’s voice cutting through the awkward one-sided conversation. “Dipper! I’m having a crisis! Do I get the set that has kittens on it or the one with little Waddles? Help a brotha out.” She held up the two skis in question, searching his face for answers. The store owner turned his head, the bald spot bouncing light in their eyes and Mabel gasped.

“Your head… it’s so shiny and—” She gasped again.  “That sweater is awesome!”

Dipper was relieved when they finally paid for the rentals. As he drew out his wallet, the store owner asked, “So what lodge are you dudes at?”

“Ursa Major,” Dipper said stiffly.

“Cool. Cool.” He nodded.  “What slopes are you gonna hit up?”

“Rainbow Road- I mean - Rainbow Ridge,” Dipper answered.

For once the store manager was quiet, and he’d stopped scanning the items. Dipper wet his lips.  “There’s not a problem with Rainbow Ridge, is there?”

“Oh. Nothing. None at all.” The store manager’s groovy attitude had died, his words stilted, as if he couldn’t wait for Dipper and Mabel to leave.

“Cause I’ve heard some rumours. But you know how rumors are…”

“Yeah. Rumors, man.”

“I mean.” Dipper chortled. “If people were really disappearing they would close it off. It’s not like they’re hiding something by keeping it open.”

“Not at all.”

“So I should have nothing to worry about… .” Dipper said carefully, watching him.

“I wouldn’t go on Rainbow Ridge,” he finally admitted.

Aha! Dipper grinned.  “And why not? A cult? A monster? Or maybe—”

“Nah man. You’re like a newbie. Rainbow Ridge isn’t for tadpoles.” He took Dipper’s debit card and swiped it without sharing the total cost. As soon as he handed him the receipt, he stormed off into the backroom.

“Skeptical,” Mabel chimed in, holding her hands up around her eyes as if she were wearing a pair of glasses.

“At least that answers one thing. There is something mysterious happening on Rainbow Roa- I mean- Rainbow Ridge.”

X

It was almost torture to go through the ski lesson the next morning. Not because of the kids, or the ski instructor who repeated himself. Both were surprisingly helpful. Dipper knew how to stop now, and he felt more confident on the slopes.

The hard part was resisting the urge to go down Rainbow Ridge, to learn more about the mystery that awaited him. If Mabel wasn’t still at the cabin waiting for him, he probably would have wandered off.

When the ski lesson finished and everyone dispersed, he ran back to the cabin, ignoring the concierge’s complaints that he was tracking snow in the lobby. As soon as he opened the door to their room he shouted, gasping for breath, “Let’s go!”

“Yeah!” Mabel cheered, looking up from her knitting to greet him. “Go where?”

“To Rainbow Road, remember? That’s the whole reason why we’re here.”

Mabel set the half-finished sweater aside. “Dipper, you just learned the basics. You’re going to need more than a day’s practice before we can go there. Remember what the ski shop guy with incredible taste said?”

“I thought he was just covering things up.”

“He was. But  It’s honestly a really intense course! Even I’m afraid to ski it.”

“Wait… you’re afraid?” Dipper asked. He thought that since she was a natural at the sport she had nothing to worry about.

“I mean, I’m excited about it.” She shrugged, nibbling on a piece of her hair.  “But when our parents took us skiing they never let me take the more intense courses. I’m not as good at skiing as you think- even y’know. Alpha twin.”

Dipper pulled the hair from her mouth, brushing it out of her face. “Mabes, you’re incredible. At skiing, and mini golf.” He nudged at her playfully. “You should probably be more afraid of the creature or whatever it is lurking there.”

She rolled her eyes. “Psssh. Yeah right. Like I’m scared of some monster.” She nudged back, “Even if I was… I have you.”

“Well, when we go skiing there you won’t have anything to worry about. I’ll be there.”

Mabel grimaced. “Stop it. I’m the only one allowed to make cheeseball lines.”

Dipper pulled her into a hug and she sank into it, sniffling slightly. At first she said she was probably catching a cold, and then, being the terrible liar she was, took it back and admitted that yes, she was crying. From being happy. From how sad she was, because that line was cheesy and bad.

They made Nutella and strawberry sandwiches on toasted banana bread for lunch, the whole time making plans for unraveling the mystery and dinner later tonight. After lunch and going over their clues, they hit the slopes for practice, and Dipper was glad that Mabel approved of his progress.

As they were walking back to their cabin a terrible roar rattled the trees, and black birds scattered in the gray sky. Everyone stopped, the bird’s shadows falling over their faces. When the sky cleared mutters surrounded the pair and Mabel and Dipper noticed the crowd was looking upwards towards the trail leading to Rainbow Ridge.

X

“I’m not sure if it’s a yeti,” Dipper said later in their room. He took off his shirt, throwing it to the floor.

“Why not?” Mabel asked, carefully putting her sweaters in a bag marked for dirty clothes.

“It sounded similar. But different. Almost… mechanical?”

“You think it’s someone like McGucket?”

“Maybe. I hope not.”

Mabel agreed, remembering her brother’s disappointment when, on one of their earliest adventures, they discovered the monster was merely an old man. They didn’t know at the time that McGucket was a key piece to the larger puzzle then, but even still, it was an anti-climactic moment.

Talk of mysteries and hypotheses drifted off as they stepped into the shower and steam filled the room. The gesture of scrubbing down each other’s bodies started out innocently enough until Dipper spread her legs, snaking a hand between them. The loofah fell to the tiled floor, forgotten.

X

Dipper sat in one of the too stiff and mysteriously stained chairs in the center lounge. He had just spent the better of fifteen minutes waiting for both Mabel and also to continue his investigation. After making inquiries to the two on-duty concierges and the man refilling the hot cocoa machine, and getting dirty looks instead of answers, Dipper’s enthusiasm almost burned out. Almost. For now he was taking a breather in the chair, trying not to think about whether that yellow stain was mustard or not.

A cup of hot cocoa was warming his hands as he idly sipped it. He combed over his mind, thinking about the newspaper clippings, the ski shop guy’s suddenly sullen behavior, and the roar that early evening. Were the people of this ski resort town just dense, in denial, or did they have some cloaked secret society covering everything up?

“It just doesn’t make sense.” He muttered. “If people are disappearing on Rainbow Ridge then why is it still open?”

“Hey, kid,” a voice greeted. Dipper looked up, following the tone, but it started again with a warning.  “Eyes forward, kid. Don’t want to raise suspicion.”

His pulse raced.  Cheesy as it was, the situation reminded him of his old hard-boiled detective novels. He couldn’t help but say, “ Ya gonna play square with me or just flim-flam?”

She laughed.  Her voice was husky and low, and also a touch gravely, like she ate cigars dry instead of smoked them. “My, my you even have the ole “gumshoe” tone right. I’m not here to play games, but I’ll admit I can’t tell you everything. We’re pressed for time, and not just because of your dear chippy.”

“Mabel?” Dipper frowned, hating the word the woman had chosen. “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Do you want to waste your time correcting me?” She waited. “Good. Here’s the thing. No one in their right mind skis past two thousand meters.”

“What happens?”

“They disappear,” she said airily. “There’s something out there from another time, another dimension. Something that shouldn’t be, waiting in the darkest corners of the mountain slopes. I saw it once in the distance: a large unsightly blur. Blocky. Its eyes were red.”

She stopped there, coating them in silence. Dipper waited impatiently, and finally asked, “Is that all you know?”

No one answered, and though he promised not to look, he sprang out of the seat and spun around.  The chair was empty. The lady had only left behind cigarette ashes and her piece to the puzzle. Dipper surveyed the entire lobby, but like before it was just him, the two concierge clerks, and the guy still refilling the hot cocoa machine. Distantly he heard the elevator bell ring, expecting Mabel, only to see a family file out, dressed in their best formal wear.

Dipper glanced down at what he was wearing. He was wearing the only button-up shirt he owned.  It was beige-colored with a simple red-and-black crosshatched pattern. It was crisp and straight after being steam-ironed while he and Mabel showered. Dipper wasn’t used to this.  His shirts were normally wrinkled from wear or, if clean, from lying in the clean laundry basket for too long, crumbled up with the other clothes. Mabel wasn’t much better with the laundry but she did always make sure to iron her clothes. Dipper just couldn’t be bothered most times. Tonight was different. He had promised her a nice dinner on their vacation.

He pulled out his phone to check the clock. Mabel did like to take her time, but usually she wasn’t this late and he was growing concerned, especially after his encounter with his mysterious information lady.

Just as he was about to rise out of his seat in a panic Mabel burst from the restroom, dressed to the tens in a sequined purple dress, holding her purse in one hand and in the other…

Dipper gulped. It was a doll. He wondered if he ignored it if it would go away, and hugged Mabel warmly, avoiding direct contact with the doll.

“Sorry, B- I mean- Dipsy. I came earlier but you were talking to yourself—”

“No! Mabel!” He gripped her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “ I wasn’t talking to myself. That was an informant. Wait, you didn’t see anyone, did you?” He sighed. “Of course you didn’t— you just said you thought I was talking to myself.”

“Well…” She smiled guiltily. “I was going to check it out, but then this caught my eye.” She held up the life-sized doll in front of Dipper’s face, much to his chagrin. “This takes me way way back. It’s a Chubby Z doll!”

“Chubb… who?”

“Oh my gosh! You don’t remember Sev’ral Tiemz? Chubby Z was the cute one— well… they were ALL cute, but right now I’m saying he’s the cutest. Calling it right now. It’s true.” She nodded contently to herself.

“Er… you’re not planning to take that on our date. Are you?” Dipper wasn’t sure why he asked when he knew the answer already. “Come on, Mabel! You know how I feel about dolls and puppets.”

“Still?!” she shouted, maybe a little too loud. “Dipper, you’re twenty seven.”

“Yeah, well you’re afraid of Claymation and I don’t tease you about it.”

“Touche.”

“Plus, remember the last time you found a doll just lying around? It was cursed and it tried to kill me.”

“Awww. Tattered Tabitha was just playing.”

“No,” Dipper said dryly, “she wasn’t. There was a lot of stabbing.” The scars on his forearms itched from the memory.

“Don’t worry, Dipper. I’m fifty percent sure this doll isn’t cursed.”

“You know, for some reason I’m not quite comfortable with those odds.”

“Says the guy who wants to ski down the ski trail with the most reported mysterious disappearances.”

“It’s less scary,” he retorted, taking her hand as she reached for him. Despite his complaints, it looked like the life-sized Chubby Z doll was going to have dinner with them. Dipper made a mental note to hoard all the knives at their table, because as much as the scars did make him look cool, he wasn’t up for adding more.

X

The next three days were uneventful in the mysteries department. He’d seen nothing since his tip-off from the woman who also had a love for hard-boiled detective novels. The Chubby Z doll hadn’t attacked him or Mabel that night during dinner, or the past couple of nights, but that didn’t relax Dipper’s nerves or improve his sleep. The bags under his eyes were heavier than usual, and this morning Mabel had jokingly asked him if he had tried on her eyeliner.

He was staring at his drained reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“God… I look like Robbie. Only more pathetic.”

He splashed cold water on his face, hopeful for improvement. All he wanted to do was take a nap, but as long as the Chubby Z doll was there he wouldn’t feel safe. He wondered if Mabel would notice if he burned it, then remembered that she always carried it around with her.

“I always wanted two boyfriends!” she had said the first night she invited the doll into bed with them. “Scratch that. I think I deserve more than two boyfriends.”

“No more dolls,” Dipper had warned. If there was a higher deity— a merciful one— then Mabel wouldn’t find another Sev’ral Tiemz doll in the lost and found bin.

“Don’t be so glum, bro!” Mabel patted him on the back.  “Today’s the big day! Annnnd…” she sang, “I made Mabel Juice!” She waved the pitcher in Dipper’s face, plastic dinosaurs clicking together and edible glitter shimmering in the brightly-lit bathroom.

“Two shots of this could raise the dead!” she said, chipper. Dipper suspected she had had three shots already. He took the pitcher from her and drank heartily from it.

“Chug it! Chug it!” Mabel roused enthusiastically. “Rainbow Road waits for no one, baby!”

Dipper emptied the entire pitcher, narrowly evading the plastic dinosaurs. He coughed.  Some of the edible bits had clumped together like powdered milk, and he swallowed that down with a drink of water.

“Thanks, Mabes. I feel a lot better.”

“No prob, Bob.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek. Dipper caught her arm, pulling her forward and kissing her on the mouth. A trace of edible glitter was on her lips from the kiss and she licked them, smiling. “Say, you don’t think I can climb Mt. Dipstick before we go…” She set the pitcher down, rubbing his arm, fingers tracing over the ridged scars fondly.

“I’m very sure you’re capable of climbing it, Mabes,” Dipper purred, leaning into her touch, “but let’s save it for the victory sex.”

She gasped, “I almost forgot about the victory sex! That’s like the best part about our Mystery Twins thing now!”

“Exactly. We must save it… for later.” On the last word they simultaneously made a fist, staring at each other with a gripping intensity that was overtly dramatic acting.

Dipper burst out laughing first, his blood bubbling from the pitcher of Mabel Juice. He followed Mabel out of the bathroom, and stopped in the doorway, a pair of pants smacking him in the face. He raised his brows.  Maybe she shouldn’t have drunk her own concoction. It always did bring out her inner twelve-year-old… More than usual.

A crumpled-up thermal shirt followed the pants and as Dipper bent down to retrieve the articles of clothing, a balled-up pair of socks hopped past his shoulder.

“Hurry!”

Dipper grinned.  “Normally you’re in a hurry for me to take my clothes off— not put them on.”

“I still am! You have to get dressed so we can tackle Rainbow Road and have victory sex.”

Dipper slowly pulled his pants up and purposely fumbled with his shirt, much to Mabel’s chagrin. He always did like to playfully tease her when he had the chance. She had more opportunities to tease him after all. It was only fair.

“Guess I’ll just ski down Rainbow Road all alone with Chubby Z,” she gently threatened, caressing the doll’s chest.

“Okay, okay. I was just teasing!” Dipper hurriedly put on his socks and shoes, gathering the ski equipment in his arms. “Wait… is that thing going with us?” He pointed at the Chubby Z doll, then shook his head in defeat.  “Why do I even ask anymore?”

X

Dipper reasoned that even if he couldn’t burn the Sev’ral Tiemz doll, he could push it off the ski lift. He thought about that briefly, staring down at the snowy ground several feet below them. Their legs dangled in the air, and he could feel Mabel’s arms clenched around his torso and shaking slightly. He always wondered how Mabel acquired a fear of heights but never pressed the question, as his curiosity was only ever piqued during moments like this. Asking her would make her anxiety worse, so he quietly decided to ask later, though he knew he would just forget until next time.

The Chubby Z doll was sitting on Mabel’s side and swaying in the wind. For the first time since she found it, Mabel forgot about it, pressing her face into Dipper’s shoulder and closing her eyes, making calm, focused breaths to ground herself. The Mabel Juice had made her anxiety worse and she occasionally twitched, sucking in her breath.

“Tell me when the ride is over,” she grumbled.

“I will.” Dipper kissed the top of her head, squeezing her hand. He turned his attention back to the mountains in the distance, steel gray and dusted white with ice and snow. The hills and slopes were blinding white, the skiers and snowboarders tiny colorful dots. He squinted his eyes, wondering if he would catch sight of something suspicious, something inhuman and blocky. He patted his pockets, checking for the disposable cameras he’d packed.

“Twenty,” He confirmed.

X

He had to hold her hand, leading her off the ski lift. Mabel very nearly forgot the Sev’ral Tiemz doll in her disoriented state and it trailed behind her, facedown in the snow. She was quiet as they walked around the top of the slope, and they did not stop until her grip loosened and she could finally smile again.

“Sorry,” she said.

“You don’t have to say sorry, Mabel.” He tugged on her hand before she could retort. “Ready?”

“Whenever you are, Flipper.”

“You’ll have to retire that nickname when we’re done.” However, as they stood in position at the start of the course, Dipper felt a lump in his throat he was having trouble swallowing.

“You okay, Dip?” Mabel asked gently, lifting her ski goggles.

Dipper paused.  He was afraid, but Mabel was there, and if he knew one thing about their adventures, she would always be there for him, just as he had been for her, moments before on the ski lift. “I’m fine, Mabes. One! Two—!”

They set off at three in perfect unison, but Mabel was able to surge ahead given her experience and skill level. She slowed down, realizing she had accidentally left him. When he caught up they glided down the hill, nice and slow, the other skiers and snowboarders zipping past them like speeding cars. There was road rage and all from some of them, who swore at the twins for going so slow.

Skiers and snowboarders gradually trickled from the slope the farther down they went,  They passed a rest stop, and after that, at 2000 meters, there were only the twins.

“This must be it,” Dipper said, slowing to a stop.

Mabel made a fancy swerve when she stopped. She lifted up her goggles and Dipper handed her a camera.

“It’s kinda creepy,” she said. There wasn’t a trace of forest around this part of the course.  It was barren and white. “It feels like I’m in a padded room.”

“Yeah… same.” He saw something move from the corner of his eye and he jumped.

“See something?” Mabel asked.

Dipper rolled his eyes. “No. It was just that doll. You moved. So then it looked like it moved.”

The Chubby Z doll had been strapped to Mabel’s back.

“I think I’ll be able to tell if it moves,” Mabel reassured, resisting the urge to tease her brother for being paranoid. “I think we should go down a little more. There’s nothing here.”

They moved further, the rest stop far behind them. They had escaped the maddeningly clear landscape, a trickle of trees coming into view, but no birds cooed from the trees, nor was there any other sign of life. Dipper didn’t feel compelled to stop and pull out his camera, and felt less angry at Mabel for taking a dozen useless pictures.

“We must be near the end of the course.” Mabel said, filling the silence.

Dipper began to nod, then stopped, seeing movement behind them. “Mabel,” he hissed, and she followed his gaze, gasping in glee and raising the camera to the ready.

The figure was large and burly.  Its silhouette reminded Dipper of Wendy’s dad. It wasn’t that the figure was large, though that sent his pulse racing.  It was how fast it sped down towards them, arms raised, eyes square and red.

Its arms were long and thin, and its body was oval-shaped and gray. At first glance it looked like a sort of snowman, and as it came closer, it looked even stranger. It’s body seemed composed of particles and outdated pixels. It would almost be comical if not for the fact that it was racing towards them at the speed of a cheetah, baring its sharp, if computerized, teeth.

“What the heckle is that?!” Mabel blurted, snapping pictures.

“We gotta go.”

Dipper grabbed her and the camera fell out of her hands. Dipper didn’t want to leave it, but he reasoned that he had nineteen more stashed in his pockets. His instincts told him they needed to go, and he hoped that during their escape there would be an opportunity to take a photo.

They sped off down the trail, faster than what Dipper was normally comfortable with. They zig-zagged between trees all uprooted by the monster. It was faster than them, and they could feel its breath, warm and electric, hit the back of their necks.

Dipper shifted to move in-between the monster and Mabel, but it swatted him away, sending him spinning in circles. Mabel screamed, squirming. It was holding her by her hair.

“Mabel!” Dipper yelled, dizzy with adrenaline and from spinning. He awkwardly tried running uphill to her, the skis and deep snow making it difficult. The wind whipped through his hair, biting his cheeks. The wind seemed to pull him further back, and he took concentrated steps, determined, but he was afraid he wouldn’t reach her in time.

“Use your grappling hook!” he yelled.

Mabel’s screams stopped, and he wasn’t sure whether to be relieved of worried. The wind died down and a hook shot past him, punching into a tree. Mabel was hurled into his arms from the force of the grappling hook tethered to the tree. She was alive and safe, but something was different.  He could see it in her teary eyes.

“You okay?”

“It-It’s Chubby Z,” she choked, squeezing Dipper. “He… he sacrificed himself.”

She buried her face into his chest, wiping the snot and tears on him, then sucked in a breath, forcing composure. They glanced at the monster ripping apart the Chubby Z doll piece by piece and eating each part, unaware that it was all clouds of stuffing wrapped in cotton.

Dipper began to reach for a camera, but stopped. It would be disrespectful to the Chubby Z doll and his sacrifice. They picked up their ski poles and bounded down the hill, not looking back, and not saying a word, collectively having a moment of silence for the Sev’ral Tiemz doll.


End file.
